


Lesbians have no sense of self-preservation

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Book of the Dead, Crack, Everyone wants to bang at least one avatar, F/F, just utter crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 11:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.





	Lesbians have no sense of self-preservation

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to apologise.

_You have already read too much._

Lindsey Rivera was used to weird. She worked at the Magnus Institute after all, you kinda got used to it after a while. But the book? The book was a bit much.

It reminded her of Denise; Denise hadn’t been her first girlfriend, but she was by far the most memorable. After all, it was really because of her that she’d ended up getting interested in the Institute; because of Denise she’d gone in for a statement, talked about teeth where teeth should _not_ be, tried to explain that she could’ve sworn she’d lost those two fingers but there they were…

Suffice to say, she and Denise had only dated for a couple of weeks more (and they’d had to find workarounds). Then Denise had left. She wasn’t entirely sure where Denise was now. 

Then when she’d been looking for a job and spotted the familiar name, she’d ended up there. Not at the Archives exactly mind you, there was more to the Institute than just the Archives, but she worked close enough to hear a little of the strangeness.

She’d heard enough to know that there were some seriously messed up books out there. For some reason it always seemed to be books. So when a huge, leather-bound book ended up (apparently delivered by mistake) on her doorstep she know something was off.

It wasn’t the same kind of something as Denise, but it still made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, something just different enough to remind her of her. 

There was no title on the cover, just a quote. _Life is a current that cannot be fought…_ And underneath that a note, apparently added by a later hand, of ‘you have already read too much.’

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. If that was too much there was no point to not keep reading.

Idly, Lindsey turned the page. The first chunk of the book was illegible, and unreadable even when it was, though the words gradually transitioned to more recognisable English.

Eventually she could read it. Grisly deaths were described in lengthy, gruesome detail one after another. Lindsey winced, and kept reading as the pages got newer and newer.

Her knowledge of the Archives and the paranormal made it rather clear what she was reading, even before she reached the end. Deaths, it told of people’s deaths. Which meant…

She turned to the last non-blank page and saw her own name there.

 _Lindsey Rivera dies in April 2016 upon encountering Jude Perry_ , followed by a rather lengthy description of Jude’s appearance, the details of the encounter in question, and then considerably more detail on how it felt to have your flesh bubble and melt around you.

Slowly, Lindsey closed the book and put it down. Somehow she knew she didn’t want to reread it.

There was only one thing on her mind. Quickly she went over to her computer and typed in the name ‘Jude Perry,’ finding a reference to some thought-dead banker who nonetheless matched the description of the woman in the book’s appearance.

So. That was how she was going to die.

Lindsey stared at the photo, and remembered the agonisingly detailed description of their meeting.

She fistpumped. 

“ _Result_ ,” Lindsey said, grinning.

* * *

It was still a few months to April, but Lindsey wanted to make sure everything was ready. Cancel a few subscriptions, treat herself to a few days of relaxation and luxuries, make sure her cat had a good home waiting for it…

Then it was just time to hand in some advance warning to the Institute.

She visited the Archives out of a sense of curiosity, more to find out if anything like the book had been found before. She found an account surprisingly quickly, skimming through it; it seemed like her decision not to reread had been a smart one after all. The death written changed if it was read again.

Well, supposedly, there wasn’t any way to tell if it changed _without_ rereading it so who could say? Still, she knew she didn’t want to risk giving up this death.

“Excuse me? You’re not supposed to be in here.”

A voice carried down the slightly cluttered Archive. Lindsey looked up, squinting; oh, the new archivist, right! She’d seen him around.

“Hey, sorry,” she said. “Just checking something out. I’ll leave you to it.”

“What are you doing in here?” Jon said as he approached. He glanced at the report in her hands. “I haven’t gotten to recording any of these yet, I could do without this place being made even more disorganised.”

“Just checking something out,” Lindsey said cheerily. “I’m dying.”

Jon blinked.

“Oh. I’m… sorry?” he said.

“Oh, nah, don’t be,” Lindsey said. “It’s a fucking awesome death. I mean, sure, burned alive, but _so_ worth it, you should see- nah, sorry, won’t bother you. Have fun!”

She wandered off, leaving a rather bewildered Jonathan behind her.

* * *

It was March when Lindsey couldn’t quite make it to work. She’d walked most of the way there when she saw something move in an alley; curiously she paused, turning to look sideways.

A figure squirmed there. It only took a second for Lindsey to recognise her; Jon had been telling the story often enough.

Jane Prentiss moved out of the alley. As Lindsey watched a thick, bulbous, writhing worm pushed its way out of a hole in her inner elbow and crawled down before disappearing into a hole in her wrist.

Jane smiled at her, lips cracked with worm-holes that just reached it, one eye nothing but a blank socket that revealed the seething, squirming mass of wriggling bodies beneath.

Well, she’d known the writing in the book could change. Lindsey tilted her head.

“I mean, I’m not going to say _no_ ,” she said. “One sec!”

Quickly she adjusted her bag, pulling out a lipstick tube to give herself a quick touch-up. If it was a last hurrah, she might as well look her best.

Then, beaming, Lindsey Rivera hurried to her death, arms outstretched. 


End file.
